


hey baby, i think i wanna marry you

by xxpaynoxx



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 04:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7152581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxpaynoxx/pseuds/xxpaynoxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo springs the question in front of the entire Camp Nou.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hey baby, i think i wanna marry you

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, Leo was not there for the celebration this year because he had a fever, but this is also an AU, so work with me here.

The stadium is _loud_.

Leo walks in with Thiago on his shoulders, and the crowd erupts in cheers, chants of _Me-ssi, Me-ssi, Me-ssi_ , and thousands of phone flashes going off at the same time. Thiago giggles above him, running his small hands over Leo’s hair, completely messing it up, but Leo doesn’t care as he laughs, tickling Thiago’s side.

The toddler lets out a shriek of laughter, and Leo brings him down and places him on his hip as he joins his teammates on the stage in the middle of the field.

Gerard and Mascherano both look at him, and he gestures to his pocket.

He’d been planning this for a while now. Neymar and he had been dating for over three years now, and they’d jokingly talked of marriage until Dani had taped a drunk Neymar confessing for ten minutes that if Leo asked him to marry him right then and there, he’d say yes, a thousand times over.

Sure, Neymar was completely plastered when he said it, but apparently being drunk gives people less of a filter, so what he said was definitely true.

(Mascherano gave him that piece of advice, and it hasn’t done Leo much good with Neymar up until now, because when Neymar’s filter goes down all he talks about is sucking Leo’s dick.)

Anyway, Leo had been planning this since September, talking to Neymar’s father and Lucho and Dani.

Neymar’s dad was easy; he was oddly excited about it (Leo supposed it was because he was _Lionel Messi_ and the media attention after the proposal would be astronomical, but he let his suspicions slide), and he immediately gave Leo his blessing. The visit took under ten minutes, much shorter than Leo had figured, but he took it and left with a relieved smile.

Lucho was a little different. He listened to Leo’s speech, nodding contemplatively when Leo was finished, and then he gave him his advice in a quiet voice, like the one he uses when he’s giving Leo or Andrés formations and tactics on the field.

“You want to do this? In front of the entire Camp?”

Leo nods, shifting his feet and swallowing nervously. It’s not like nobody knows; he’s been out publicly with Neymar for two years. The backlash wouldn’t be that bad.

Lucho sighs, rubbing at his forehead. “I can’t promise that all of them will support you,” he begins, but Leo cuts him off, something he’s never done before.

“I know, I know, but I’ve been wanting to do this since September. I want this, with him.”

The older man stares him down in surprise for a few seconds before his lips split into a sideways smile, standing up and hugging Leo, something the Argentine was _not_ expecting.

“Then congratulations, Leo,” he hears Lucho whisper in his ear, before he claps him on the back and then pushes him playfully out of his office. “Now go,” he orders, sitting back down at his desk and grabbing a paper from the stack of documents on the desk, “I’m sure you have some interesting activities for the players today.”

Dani was the easiest, almost better than Neymar’s father. They sat and talked for a while about it, and then Dani stood up and hugged him tightly to his chest and promised him it would be perfect, exactly what Neymar would want.

So here he is, finally being handed the microphone.

He’s the last to speak, as Lucho hands him the microphone and winks before stepping back in line, Xana tripping over her glittery shoes to get back in line with Milan. Leo hands Thiago off to Mascherano before stepping onto the field to stand between the trophies.

The entire stadium falls silent, and every single person has their phone light on so it looks like a million different spotlights focused on Leo. He’s sweaty all of a sudden, the velvet box in his pocket feeling like it’s weighing him down, but he takes a deep breath and begins.

He talks about the season, congratulates the players and coaches and training staff, and of course the fans, and then he does his end of his speech from last year.

“Last year, I gave you all three,” he begins, the crowd erupting in a massive cheer before it dies down again, “but this year, I’m giving you a different three.”

Leo sees Rafinha out of the corner of his eye, looking in confusion at Gerard, who gestures for him to wait as Leo turns to Neymar.

He looks good, _gorgeous_ even, standing next to Douglas who has charge of Davi Lucca on his hip, the blonde toddler clutching onto Douglas’s shirt like a lifeline.

Neymar’s hat is backwards now, his eyes wide and confused, and he looks so much like that foolhardy kid from São Paulo that came to Barcelona with nothing but a name and a hefty price tag.

Leo nearly stops talking to marvel at how beautiful Neymar looks in the lighting, the phone lights illuminating his bronze skin and black tattoos, but he keeps going, walking slowly towards Neymar, who is looking increasingly more emotional with every step Leo makes.

“Because,” Leo begins, finally arriving at the top of the stage and the entire team making a large berth to make sure the crowd can see the two, “there's one more thing I won three years ago today, and I hope he feels the same way.”

Neymar’s eyes go massive, nearly the size of those special white china dinner plates he has put out sometimes for date nights, and his hands go to his mouth, his knuckles white as he realizes what’s happening.

It feels like time is paused, like the entire stadium including the players are all holding their breath.

Leo silently bets drop a pin onstage and it would echo for miles.

He drops onto one knee, producing the small black velvet box, his eyes never leaving Neymar’s. A soft gasp sounds behind him, and Leo smiles a little, figuring that it’s probably Rafinha, and Gerard is definitely restraining the Brazilian from saying anything else or interrupting anything else.

“Since the day I met you, during that first training session, I knew, somewhere deep in my heart, that it was going to be you. It was always going to be you, and we’ve been through so much these past few years, and I want to spend every single moment of the rest of my life with you.”

Leo can hear his voice shaking in the microphone as he feels his throat begin to close up, feels tears start to prick at his eyes as he opens the box, the pretty golden ring catching the light just right and reflecting back into Neymar’s eyes, turning them a glassy, blazing auburn.

“Neymar da Silva Santos Júnior, will you marry me?”

The entire stadium _explodes_.

Leo nearly misses Neymar’s choked “yes” before the entire team storms them, screaming in their ears and pushing them together. Leo’s chest collides with Neymar’s, and he can hear Davi Lucca and Thiago screaming with delight as the entire team chants “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

And who was Leo to deny the public what they wanted?

He crushes Neymar’s lips to his own, and he tastes like salt and cherries and everything Leo has ever wanted. He feels Neymar’s hands underneath his shirt, feels the entire team jumping around them belting out _El Cant de Barça_ , leading the Camp Nou in congratulating them.

Leo opens his eyes and sees Neymar staring back at him, smiling with tears falling silently down his face as he grabs Leo’s hands.

“I love you,” he whispers.

Leo doesn’t need to say it back; he says it when he kisses him.

It’s sweet, like the first, and Leo wants to live in this moment forever; the Camp Nou chanting along with the entire squad, the screaming giggles of Thiago in his ear. The euphoria.

And when Neymar’s hand goes to his chin, lifting his face up to give him better access to his mouth, Leo smiles and wishes for nothing else.


End file.
